


with my feet bare and my heart whole

by TheKitteh



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And coffee, Fix-It, Introspection, LOOK AT THEM, M/M, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Post Captain America: Civil War, Steve and Tony finding their way around, Tony Stark Centric, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, almost using their words, and it's in good hands, like proper adults, of sorts, road to recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 18:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16164857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKitteh/pseuds/TheKitteh
Summary: One early morning, when the air is warm and so is he, Tony and Steve finally reconcile.





	with my feet bare and my heart whole

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [Tony Stark Bingo 2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TonyStarkBingo2018), square R1 "present tense"
> 
> woooooo my first bingo entry yay! ~~i'm not nervous, nope, not at all~~
> 
> shoutout to the beautiful [ rinnwrites ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinnwrites) for betaing and being so patient with my rumbling.

He knows Steve’s watching him. He can feel the way his eyes burn trails on his skin, despite the worn out sweatshirt he’s wearing. Or maybe because of it. He doesn’t even try to pretend that Steve’s not there. Steve knows Friday alerts Tony every time he’s near, even if it’s completely unnecessary. Tony, for all that he tried, could never pretend not to see Steve. All in all, after and despite everything,  Steve’s still a presence that cannot be ignored for too long.

 

But it doesn’t matter anymore, really, Tony hums a little to himself as he sways on the soles of his feet. The floors are warm from the sun and he enjoys the feel of the fine wood underneath his feet. He’s feeling all sorts of good, all well rested and warm, and he doubts that even Steve and his sad puppy eyes can do anything about it.

 

Steve can look all he wants.

 

“I never had a chance, didn’t I?” Steve says finally, less of a question and more of a quiet statement and Tony’s first reaction is to nod without thinking. Then he thinks about it.

Despite being so soft, Steve’s voice holds a certain amount of remorse, perhaps guilt. It  _ should _ sound like that and somehow, Tony still sighs, runs a hand through his hair. He watches the coffee drip into his mug and he thinks he paints the most predictable picture, barefooted and sleep-messy in the kitchen.

 

Almost no one realizes that coffee has become more of a habit lately. A ritual, rather than a necessity.

 

He used to wonder when caffeine stopped working on his body, when it became more of a comfort drink that a necessity. He doesn’t know, doesn’t really care anymore. But he still likes the taste any time of day, be it a strong double espresso that makes Pepper frown in worry or a fancy, completely ridiculous latte something that is a step away from diabetes. Rhodes’ face when he first saw a whipped cream and chocolate monstrosity in Tony’s hands is still one of Tony’s best memories ever. So yes, he still likes his coffee - all the time and in all forms- even if it does shit to his blood system, but he’s not ashamed to admit that lately, coffee and sunlit, slow mornings have somehow become the best combination. Especially mornings where he can go back to bed, curl up in still-warm sheets and lounge for a couple of hours more.

 

The coffee maker beeps softly and Tony blinks, brought back into the present, to Steve and his not-quite-a-question.

 

“You know what, Cap?” He finally throws him a look over the shoulder and sure, there Steve is, in all of his huge-bulk-of-apathy-and-sadness-glory, leaning against the door frame. At one point it would make him want to go, soothe. Try to take whatever burden was on those broad shoulder and place it on his own. He takes his coffee, wraps his fingers around the warm mug and turns to look at Steve.

 

Steve’s eyes are brilliantly blue, the color of a fresh summer sky or maybe forget-me-nots, or perhaps the crystal clear ice over the Northern Pole. Tony’s not fooled by them anymore, by the stories he’s been fed or which he came up with. Now, in a summer lit kitchen, the smell of coffee in the air, he feels like he can finally straighten his back and breathe, even with Steve looming behind him.

 

“That’s the saddest part.” Tony says quietly, but there’s no malice in his voice. He doesn’t feel anything but calm, kind. “You did once.”

 

And he had, and Tony’s finally good enough to accept that and bury it between them.

 

They finally made their peace, bought with blood and bruised skin, lips split and eyes swollen and damp. Hours of awkward silence and angry yelling were behind them now. No flip phones, no half assed apologies, or silent treatments, or sneers. The whole process was raw and ugly, and Tony never felt anything more liberating in his whole life when they both, stripped bare and anguished, sat side by side in the demolished living room.

 

They work together  _ and _ with each other now, back to back and front to front, and Tony would rather take a plunge himself then let the good ol’ Captain America fall. They’re comrades in arms, they’re equals outside of battle.  They will be friends, Tony is sure of it, because Steve Rogers is a good man with a huge heart –stubborn to a fault, but Tony’s got no real room for throwing rocks here - and Tony’s slowly learning how to want Steve in his life again. They’re a work in progress on that front, but the crumbled foundation can be rebuilt bigger and stronger.

 

Tony knows that. He builds things from scratch and from scraps, he knows how it works.

But that’s the extent of what they can be. They’ll Captain America and Iron Man, they’ll be Steve Rogers and Tony Stark.

 

But that fraction of more, that palpable almost that they were all those months ago …? That whisper of a promise, that tremble of lips and a brush of fingers they never managed to address?

 

Well.

 

All of that was gone – ground into dust – and would not be coming back,not just because Tony decided to risk his heart one last time and place it in a metal grasp.

 

Steve sighs, rubs a hand over his face.  He looks sad and determined at the same time, and it strikes Tony how long it’s taken him to notice that Steve's anger has finally bled out. He briefly wonders how many punching bags it took for Steve to punch that anger – at Tony, at himself, at the world – out of his system.

 

“For all it’s worth…” Steve says a moment later, voice laced with the kind of uncertainty that makes Tony’s skin crawl, because this is  _ Steve  _ and it hurts to hear him like that. Tony’s well too aware of all of his less stellar traits, but he’s never been cruel enough to enjoy someone’s pain.  “I’m happy. For you both. And glad, that what I did, it didn’t … make this impossible.”

 

The coffee is pleasantly hot as it pools in his stomach, warming him as much as the memory of the sleepy smile, the muffled, petulant  _ get your sweet ass back here  _ thrown at him as he left the room.

 

He smiles against the mug and, almost against his will, feels the strong steady beat of his heart. He looks at Steve, straight into those blue eyes of his and feels nothing except peace.

There’s no anger towards Steve left in him either, not anymore. And it’s such a good thing too, relishing in the knowledge that this time, no Iron Legion was created. That no creation of his went rogue, or that he didn’t drink double his weight in the world’s finest alcohol. 

 

Oh no, that anger has been long kissed away, licked clean from between the dips in his ribs and brushed away from  the crevices of his chest with surprisingly gentle fingers. It crumbled underneath a slowly blossoming trust; it never stood a chance against the silent appreciation and not that silent affection, against soft lips, a clever tongue and a harsh stubble.

 

“Yeah, Steve, I know.” He says gently, rests his hand on Steve’s shoulder for a second as he moves to walk out. Gives it a squeeze, watches Steve’s eyes clear up, brighten and his lips twitch in an honest to God  _ smile, _ the first one since forever. “I’m glad too.”

 

There’s a lightness to his step – no, it’s not a skip - as he walks back toward the elevator, back to his room. Back to warm covers and a warmer embrace.

 

Back to a safe place.

 

Back to Bucky.

  
  



End file.
